Shadows Of Space
by Kestra
Summary: When the Dark Army and the leader leads an assault on Earth with an intent to take what isn't theirs, Goku and the Z-Fighters must try and end the chain of thievary that Onso and his pirates have sparked about the universe. A work in training. *3 Ch's up*
1. Prologue : A Warning

**Author:::** " Right, just to clear things up, I'm warning you that this is a work in training, as it were. I'm working on the glitches.  
Please realise that the children's ages in this story might not be correct. I aimed to make Trunks and Goten still child-like, young teenagers, if that makes sense. Pan and Bra are roughly both 5 years old (Pan = slightly older - 6? 7?). If their ages don't suit and you're angry, email me or flame me or something. After all, comments would be appreciated ^_^ "

**Prologue - A Warning:**

"KA…ME…HA…ME-"

"GOTEN! I said no energy waves!"

"Oh. Okay, Trunks." He shifted down into a defensive pose: knees bent, arms held out before him, a tiny smirk on his face. Trunks repaid the smile with a grin. There was a second's silence, and stillness, and then Trunks darted forward. He flew through the air and made a punch to the head, but Goten disappeared and re-appeared behind his companion. Hand to the centre of the shoulders, and Trunks was down. Goten flew backwards, his silvery clothes catching the moonlight. Trunks, murmuring to himself, lifted his form from the dirty ground and stood up again, eyes darting. His gaze carved into the bushes and the darkness, searching. Goten's weak spot, when it came to battle and fighting, was hiding his power level from opponents. So if he could just feel a slight reading-

There! There he was-

He flew forward towards the offending hedge, jammed an arm through the dense foliage and grabbed a tuft of jet-black hair. He tugged it triumphantly.

"Owww! Trunks, LET GO!"

"Admit defeat, or I won't," he smirked, pulling harder. There was a loud rustling of grass behind him, and a moment later Bulma's green-haired head appeared above the vegetation.

"Trunks? Trunks, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," he said innocently, just as Goten's shrill cry of, "LET GO OF MY HAIR!" rang out through the forest. Trunks kicked his friend's leg sharply through the bush, which resulted in another loud "OW!"

Bulma's eyes narrowed. "Do what he says. I want you inside that house pronto, mister. You too, Goten," she added, then turned and left them to their play-fighting.

Trunks made sure she'd gone before releasing the tuft of hair. He brushed his hands together in a self-satisfied way. "You're such a whiner sometimes," he muttered.

Goten, rubbing his sore scalp, left the secure hiding place of behind the leaves and walked into the moonlight. He looked down at the brand new silver suit Chi-Chi had brought for him that morning, and frowned at the wide brown dirt stain smeared down his front. "This is your fault, Trunks!"

"Hey, you're the one who hid in the mud, don't blame me for it!" Trunks shook his head. "What's the bet Chi-Chi won't even notice. C'mon, Mom's got the food up."

The latter statement had the effect he desired. A grin spread on Goten's face, and his stomach rumbled in chorus. Trunks followed the path his mother had just made. When there was no crunching of grass behind him, he looked for Goten. "What are you waiting-"

"Hey Trunks, I think there's someone else here." His grin had disappeared. He pointed into the deeper part of the forest. "Over there, I saw a shadow move."

"Your stomach's getting to you," Trunks muttered, walking over to Goten and following the path of his finger. There was nothing but shadow there: the shadows of the trees, of the bushes, of the Capsule Corporation building near by. "Yep, you're seeing things."

"But, I swear-"

"Food, Goten. Food." When this didn't make him forget, Trunks grabbed his arm and dragged him back towards the building. Before he had even reached his front lawn, Goten yanked his arm from Trunks' grasp and pointed backwards. "Look! I told you!" he muttered excitedly.

Trunks turned, and his eyes narrowed. So there had been someone, after all.

It was a thin, pasty-faced teenage girl. Her face was long and drawn downwards, pulling her glum expression down with it. Her clothes were casual, jeans and a white v-neck T-shirt, with a long black coat hanging around her weak-looking shoulders. Her hair was the same colour as her coat, waist-length and tied into a loose ponytail with a large, red ribbon, tied in a bow shape. Her eyes were waxy grey, and sparkling.

"Um - hi?" Trunks muttered. Goten stepped forward at his side. "What are you doing on my property?"

She spoke. "I'd be careful, if I were you." Her voice was a whisper, but just as sparkly and light as her eyes.

Trunks glared at her. "That sounds like a threat," he retorted. "But you're the one trespassing. You're the one who ought to be careful, because if my Mom or Dad catches you, you'll be as good as dead, believe me."

She snorted. Goten asked, "Who are you?"

Trunks was furious. "Who cares who she is, just as long-"

"Just think of me as your Guardian Angel," she replied. Her gaze fell on Goten, and Trunks saw the hint of a smile on her lips. But then she looked back at Trunks, and the expression fell back to one of surliness and, almost, boredom. He was about to say something, when:

"Look, don't think about telling me to go, I'm leaving in a moment. But before I do, I've been given a warning to give to you. They're coming, probably tonight. And don't give me that look," she snapped at Goten, who had looked puzzled and amused, "I know it sounds stupid, but that's what I have to tell you. They're coming. I saw it."

"Right, that's all. I'll be leaving now. See you."

She spun on her heel and ran in amongst the trees, her long coat billowing out behind her. The shadows hid her figure. She was gone.

There was a stunned silence.

"What. A. Psychopath," Trunks stated slowly. He looked at Goten. "Who the heck was she, huh?! Our, 'Guardian Angel', who 'saw' that 'they're coming'?! Give me a break!"

"Should we follow her?" Goten asked. "Should we tell someone?"

"Neither. She's left now, probably a mile away by now. And I don't think anybody wants to know or cares about a freaked-out little girl trespassing. Either that, or they'd organise a man hunt." Trunks shook his head. "'They're coming', honestly."

"C'mon, let's go inside, before we end up meeting any other strangers." Once again he caught hold of Goten's arm and dragged him towards the front door. With a parting look of curiosity, Goten succumbed and allowed himself to be led back to the Capsule Corporation.


	2. Chapter 1 : Extracting Necessary Informa...

** Author:::** "Right, here's chapter 1. Please remember: WORK IN TRAINING. This is the worst chapter I've written out of the three I've got on my computer. Ah well, hope it's understandable. Comments for improvement are greatly accepted:"

**Chapter 1 – Extracting Necessary Information**

The ships are returning. They fly in an orderly single-file line through to the docking bay. Good. I sip the sour-tasting drink in my glass with another hand pressed against the glass. I want to be down there, but not yet. Not until I actually have people to see.

I've called for a report, but service is slow. The people under my command don't seem to realise how quickly orders should be answered. They're all beginners, though, so I can't blame them for it yet. They'll have to learn from the elders.

The door behind me slides open, finally. "Sir, Rift, here with the report."

"At ease." I take another sip from the glass. "Anything interesting?"

"We've been searching under guard and secretly so that no one picks up the ship. The galaxy's quite small in comparison to others, so all the planets have already been searched. Full scope and search, but no life on any except for the third one in, the one that's coloured blue and green."

"Thriving, is it?"

"Yes. Huge population. Must have a lot of things worth taking – currency and the-like. As far as I saw, they've got nice females, too."

I smile. "That's all you men seem to think about." I place the glass back onto the table beside me. "I think that this planet is worth ransacking. If there are as many inhabitants as you say there are, then the economy won't be as badly affected after we've searched it. They _should_ keep the money coming. The planet should continue to thrive, meaning that we can keep coming back for more."

"Good, Sir. I'll take the best ships and the best fighters, and-"

"Hold on, Rift. Remember the 'Power of Three' rule: riches, strength, and land. All are valuable to me." I scrape fingernails across the glass. "We can't get the important things if we don't know where to find them, can we?"

"All sorted. We took a few...um..._samples_ from the planet. A couple of inhabitants on a building site, one picking apples in the forest on his own, a dozen shopping and going around their business – we'll get the information from them."

"Good. See to it now. The longer we're here for, the quicker they'll pick us up."

Rift stamps his foot – "Sir!" - and leaves the room.

I stand by the window and watch as the planet's inhabitants leave the ships. They all look bemused, pale and scared witless, surrounded by my captains and members dressed in black robes, like cloaks coating their identities with shadows, from my personal army. I stand and watch as Rift reaches the group and picks out a couple for 'interrogation'. Most of them answer the questions quickly and shrink away from the danger as soon as they can. Some don't. One particularly fat character stands and complains through his disgustingly large mouth at the captain. Stupid of him. The sword hanging at his side - a strange thing to be carried around by a normal person, I note - is removed, and Rift catches the handle and drags the blade along the character's upper forearm. He talks now as the blade is held to his throat, sweating like a pig.

This interrogation continues for another hour or so, before the inhabitants are taken away from the docking bay and Rift turns and heads back to my room. I welcome him with a beverage, and he reports to me again:

"We've got co-ordinates for the richest places on the planet. Strength is something lacking in the population, and there isn't land that can be easily taken without many, many people noticing. Most of it has been built on. There are some rich natural sources that we can put to use, like coal and oil. Well, here's the list of the richest businesses." He delves into his front pocket, pulls out a scrap of paper and hands it to me. I scan down the list, pick out a few names: "Warfare Ltd...Informatique Parfait...Capsule Corporation...Virgin Music...Rondoove's Goldmine Ltd." These names are ridiculous.

"Perfect," I say, handing it back to him. "Head for these businesses and ransack them. Bring back inhabitants – humans - for testing-"

"And females," he interrupts slyly. I smile, equally slyly.

"Yes. Especially females." I stretch, tired of this conversation. "Just do what you're good at, but don't completely dry the planet out. Take, at most...a quarter, else the planet's economy won't recover."

"Sir." A salute, then he turns and leaves the chamber. I smile at the closed door, and watch through the glass again at the docking bay. Rift is giving orders. My personal army is filing into over 20 individually large cargo ships – a sea of black. The ships jettison from the docking bay and into the unknown space outside. The profits of this expedition would be very interesting indeed.

For now, I'm tired of watching. I decide to sleep.

* * *

The house was large, empty and dark. Penelope Rondoove sat upstairs on her velvet-covered window seat, watching over the vast fields that belonged to her father. The sky was clear of stars but still very beautiful, with all of the colours of the night mingling into each. It was like an oil painting. Behind the house were the endless factories that produced the gold and jewels – the objects of which her father was obsessed with, that had made life for her so rich and plentiful. But she despised the smell of melted metal, so had chosen a bedroom with a window facing away from the fumes. She was glad she had now. She opened the window, and breathed in the fresh air.

Then, she noticed the large, navy blue sitting stationary on one of the far fields.

"Huh..?" she mumbled curiously, and dropped from the window seat and left her bedroom, her naked feet pattering on the wooden floor. She shivered in the sudden cold breeze of the house, and wrapped her jumper around her for extra warmth. It was a good job that she had decided to sleep in her clothes tonight. It would have been freezing in just her thin night dress.

She had reached the stair case and was half way down the stairs when the tapping began, like metal on metal. She shuddered. It was too dark. "Dad?" she shouted.

Her voice echoed from the walls of the large entry hall. There was no reply.

She hated her house when it was lifeless. Usually, her parents were still awake at this time, watching the television for the business news and statistics. Perhaps they'd gone to bed early. "Daddy?" she called again, finally reaching the hallway.

She jumped when the tapping happened again, very close to her right. It was coming from outside. Metal on metal, or perhaps some unerthly fingernails tapping against glass...? _No! Stop scaring yourself!_ Shaking slightly, Penelope reached out, and wrenched the curtain across.

It was a loose chain, tapping on the surface of the window from the outside. "Idiot," she muttered angrily to herself, closing the curtain again.

"Mom? Dad?" The TV was on in the living room, she could see the light issuing from it through the doorway. "I'd appreciate it if people answered me once in a while," she shouted furiously, walking into the living room. "Didn't you hear what-"

She stopped dead. Mr Rondoove was lying face-up on the carpet, completely unconscious with blood trickling from his mouth in a small river down the wrinkles of his chin. There was another, more delicate hand poking out from behind the sofa, with a golden bracelet twisted around the thin wrist. _Mother..._ Penelope was going to scream, before-

::THUNK::

* * *

On the opposite side of the world, the day was boiling hot. The distant scenes were shimmering gently under heat waves: scenes of grey block buildings running parallel against one another, jettisoning steam and thick, choking smoke into the atmosphere. Inside the factories it was just the same. The heat had somehow managed to sneak its way into the huge buildings despite the fact that the air conditioning was running full blast. Men in orange work suits were simultaneously wiping sweat from their foreheads with one arm whilst juggling dangerous pieces of razor-sharp equipment with the other. The machines coughed up piece after piece of jet black coal, an endless stream of the stuff. The man working the conveyer belt looked up longingly at the clock on the wall: 12H00. 10 minutes till lunch.

Everything was working normally when an alarm bell sounded out loudly, a rare occurrence for the factory workers. Was it the fire alarm? They all stood motionlessly, not knowing what to do.

The ceiling caved in.

The men in Block 4F screamed in terror as four large metallic objects pierced through 2-feet thick plaster. Most got out of the way and exited the factory speedily. Those who stayed behind were either suffocated by the dust or crushed to death by falling pieces of rubble.

The man left his station at the conveyer belt. He stood, dumb-struck, watching as the gigantic ship coated in the grey dust of the plaster landed on the factory floor. His legs were frozen as people dressed in black robes left the craft and invaded the coal carriers, stealing huge chunks of the stuff and dragging the lumps back to their mysterious companions. And his mouth was wide open in a large 'O' of shock as the thieves armed with blasters approached him, jeered, and shot him into a million pieces.

* * *

In the suburbs of a large city, West City at late evening time, fires were springing up all over the place. A woman sprinted down the street dragging her small child behind, but she was cut down a second later by a huge dog-like figure and dragged off into the night. The space crafts towering over the houses were loading up with coal and oil, some of which spilt out onto the streets. Men, women and children were running together in groups, thinking of safety in numbers, and mostly these groups were left alone. Only some of the humans had been brought down and dragged back to the waiting space crafts. It seemed as if all the invaders wanted was zeni, and lots of it. Several incidents went amiss: cars driving insanely through the streets; flames darting out of buildings and cutting through groups of invaders, killing some downright; one man and his green-haired daughter flying through the air high above the city…all these were un-noticed, because of the invaders' obsession with stealing as much as they could carry. Some of the braver human men had stayed behind to fight the fires springing up in every street. It was chaos.

Hiding behind the wall of house in the shadows the figure, a thin pale girl with white skin and a long, glum face, shook her head. "I warned them of something. If this is bad, then what's to come?" she asked herself, and, tucking a yard long tail of hair and a large red ribbon inside of her black coat, she walked off back into the trees.

* * *

In the dome-shaped building, a crowd of party-goers were huddled around a television screen, completely silent. They were watching the chaos outside. The nervous reporter on the television was wrapping her hands around the hem of her short red dress and glancing at either side of her all the time.

"It's complete madness out here in West City," she spoke aloud to the camera. "These strange beings - these 'invaders', as they have been dubbed by the news team - are stealing zeni and…everything…mercilessly. It has been reported that many citizens have been captured and taken into the…there's no way to describe them…space ships, the massive structures standing behind me..." She cupped her hand to her earpiece, listened in silence, as a group of people dressed in black ran from behind her, dragging bags along the floor. The reporter began again. "I've also just had news that this chaos is happening all over the world…the French company Informatique Parfait's main factory has been completely obliterated…it is feared that our very own Capsule Corporation could be next in this line of raids-"

An explosion rang out from behind her. She screamed. "The world hasn't seen such madness since Buu's reign of terror!" she shouted shakily.

A figure in black appeared out of nowhere and made an attempt at grabbing the reporter around the waist. She screamed and tried to beat him off with tiny fists. The view was shaking. Obviously the cameraman was having troubles of him own, too...

Something flew out of the air and landed on the invader gripping the news reporter. The black figure dropped her, and aimed a blaster at his attacker. Everything was moving around the screen so quickly that it was hard to follow what was going on…that is, until a prominent voice rang out from amidst the chaos:

"Have no fear, the Great Saiyamann is here!"

Back in the sphere-like building, one man whooped in delight.

"That's my boy!" clichéd Goku, grinning from ear to ear. He was the only one. No one else seemed too happy to see Gohan.

"I'm going to go and help him," muttered Krillen finally, biting his bottom lip. "This looks serious. We're supposed to be the protectors of Earth and all." He glanced towards Chi-Chi. "I'm guessing Videl's out these to?"

She nodded in reply, mind elsewhere. Her gaze was fixed on the television screen, on the figure of her teenage son who was, at that moment, battling hand-to-hand with one of the darkly-dressed invaders. Goku rubbed her shoulder reassuringly.

"We'll all go. We've stood by and done nothing for too long." His expression was one of seriousness. It was startling how fast his emotions could change. "I want to find out who these guys are…from the looks of things they're just interested in stealing zeni-"

"Any sign of Bra and Vegeta yet?" came Bulma's voice from the kitchen. A moment later she appeared, dressed in a formal top and jeans but her face a mask of anxiousness. "I sent them out shopping before all this madness began, and they haven't come back yet-"

Everybody shook their heads. "That reporter said they might raid Capsule Corp. next," Bulma muttered, staring at the chaotic scene of destruction.

Somehow the cameraman had managed to keep his machinery upright, filming. Gohan, dressed in his hero costume, was still fighting with the invaders. Behind him, Videl's head could just be made out in the darkness. She was surrounded, and her usually pretty face looked grim.

"Let's go already!" shouted Trunks angrily, clenching his fists. "They're having trouble fighting them all off! Me and Goten could do some good at least." His hair began to stand up, tinged with gold. Bulma shot him a dangerous look.

"Trunks, remember the rule – no powering-up in the house!" she snapped, glancing at the remains of a shattered vase, stocking up the bin in the corner of the room.

"But Mom-"

At that moment the door to the living room opened, and Bra, soaking wet, ran into the room and hugged her mother's trouser leg. Her green hair was hanging down before her face in wet strands, flattened against the top of her head. She shoved a bag of apples into Bulma's outstretched hands. "Mommy, it's horrible out there!" she said in a high-pitched squeak.

Bulma's eyes were wide. "What happened to you?" she muttered, stroking her daughter's hair. "You're soaked..."

"That's because the humans are putting out the flames," came a cold voice.

Vegeta was standing in the doorway, almost as soaked as Bra. His own spiky hair drooped slightly forwards, and his clothes were sopping. "Well, are you coming or not?" he snapped at the group crowded around the TV screen. "We don't have a lot of time to waste, if you moron's hadn't realised that yet!"

He turned, powered up to Super Saiyan and flew from the room without a second glance.

"Daddy's in a bad mood! There are those nasty people everywhere," Bra was telling her mother breathlessly. "One tried to steal my zeni but Dad chased him and blasted him and we had to fly over the buildings and then the mean men, they tried to shoot us with this metal guns but we dodged them and-"

"Calm down, Bra, please," her Mom replied soothingly. She looked up. "Goku, what are you going to do..?"

"Grandpa, look!" came Pan's voice. She was crouching in front of the TV screen. "The men, they're beating Dad!" Everyone followed her horrified gaze.

The flames of the buildings were burning brighter than before. The camera was now on its side, and the reporter and cameraman were nowhere to be seen. The city was devoid of people, of any citizens at all, except for the invaders dressed in black. Many of them were heading for the space ships, still clutching bags of zeni and lumps of ornaments and the like, obviously stolen from surrounding houses. The only invaders not dragging bags to the spacecrafts were the ones fighting with Gohan. He looked worn out, and, although darkly-dressed bodies littered the ground, many more kept on coming, a sea of black descending upon the Great Saiyamann and his female companion. The invaders had a graceful, precise method of hand-to-hand combat. They leapt into the air in smooth arcs to land behind their opponents and hit them with a flurry of swift punches. Gohan had the advantage of energy waves and ki blasts, but the invaders were quick at dodging. They had perfected their fighting skills into a deadly, skilful art.

Videl was having definite trouble. She could fly, but could not blast her attackers like her husband. She was tiring. And still the sea descended. Even when Vegeta entered on the left hand of the screen and began to blast through the invaders, their numbers would not be cut down. They were marching to their deaths, but didn't seem to care.

Goku clenched his fists. Without warning, he flew from the building. Krillen, Tien, Trunks, Goten and Yamcha all followed. Pan made to go, but Chi-Chi grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. "Oh no you don't, young lady," she told her small grand-daughter. "You're not leaving my sight. It's too dangerous for you."

Pan struggled. "I want to go and help!" she cried imploringly. "Trunks and Goten went, so why can't I?" But Chi-Chi didn't release her arm. She, Bulma and the others were watching the TV screen intently.

Pan's mind whirled. She thought of a plan. She reached out and pinched Bra lightly on the arm. Bra turned and looked at her curiously.

Swap, Pan mouthed at the tiny girl, pointing at her grandmother's hand. Bra stood, puzzled, and Pan had to repeat herself three times before she got the idea. She began to mouth a reply:

But-

Swap! Pan was getting anxious and impatient.

Chi-Chi's mind was elsewhere. Bra gently lifted the woman's hand from Pan's shoulder, and placed it on her own. You owe me a favour. Hurry up, she mouthed, but Pan was gone, sneaking out of the door as quietly as a mouse. She powered up, leapt into the air and flew westward, smiling at the thought of a proper fight. Now she could put her training to action. 


	3. Chapter 2 : Pan's Encounter

** Author:::** "I like this chapter, Ch. 2. 'Tis simple and easy-to-follow, in my opinion. Enjoy! ^_^"

**Chapter 1 – Pan's encounter**

By the time the tiny black-haired girl had reached the scene of the fight, Gohan and Videl's burdens had been lifted slightly. The Z-Fighters were blasting through crowds of the army with such force, that many of the darkly-robed strangers had had to drop their bags of robbed items and join their comrades in battling these newly-arrived Earth warriors. Pan avoided the camera's gaze, the visions of which were still being broadcast on TV – hopefully it would be a while before Chi-Chi noticed that she had a quaking hand resting on Bra's shoulder, not Pan's. The girl dodged around the side of the building. Immediately she was faced with a stray invader, who tried to haul her over his shoulder and cart her off to the space craft.

Surprised and furious, Pan allowed herself to be picked up, but powered up as soon as she was slung over his shoulder. He dropped her in surprise, and she flew off into the air, and was away over the top of the building whilst the invader cursed loudly and furiously. She perched, bird-like, on a ledge, laughed down at him and took off, ignoring his taunts and shouts.

Where was Gohan? She scanned around with sharp eyes, and noticed a green figure flying in from the east. She thought all the invaders wore black clothes…but then again, that figure wasn't wearing black robes…he was wearing white...

"Piccolo!" she shouted, catching his attention. He glanced at her, made to continue his path of flight but then changed his mind and flew towards her.

"Where's Goku?" was the first question he asked.

"Over there!" She pointed. "What are you doing here?"

He followed the direction she pointed at. "Whatever you're doing here. I sensed something was wrong, so came to investigate. Obviously my guess was right."

"Yeah. There were these men dressed in black-"

Something flew between them and whammed into a building behind them, breaking the conversation. Bruised but furious, Trunks flew forward between them again – "Hey Piccolo," he grunted – and punched the invader who'd thrown him into the wall. Piccolo, his attention caught, left Pan's side and went to help.

Pan descended onto the ground with a sigh. Once again she had been deserted in the field of fighting, like the little sissy girl she wasn't. "Great," she muttered angrily. "What do I do now?"

Her question was never answered. An arm came from behind her, wrapped and pressed against her neck so hard that she choked. Her attacker hissed for her silence, but Pan was too distracted trying to breathe she couldn't even have powered up, let alone answer. She was dragged backwards quickly and swiftly through the street. Looking up desperately, she saw a figure – Krillen, it looked like – fighting on the top of a building. He didn't see her, fighting hand to hand in the high winds. He was lost to her as Pan was dragged from the street and into a darkened clutch of vegetation.

Only then was her neck released.

Coughing, she clutched her chest and turned to face her assailant. "What… who… who are you..?" she managed to splutter towards the person who'd removed her from the streets. It was a girl, taller than her by about three feet. Pan, recovered, powered up defensively. "I'll hurt you if you try to hurt me," she warned, positioning herself into a figure ready to fight, just as her father had taught her to.

"Don't you think I would have destroyed you back there if I had wanted to hurt you? Otherwise I wouldn't have brought you here," the girl replied. She looked past Pan, onto the streets. Pan, still suspicious, backed away, eyes darting for a way of escape. The girl bent down behind the low bushes. "Well, you're safe now."

"I was safe before!" replied Pan furiously. Her lips formed a pout. "I can take care of myself-"

"I'm not saying you can't, normally," snapped the girl. Her black hair shook with her anger. "But I doubt you could handle that." She pointed onto the street. Curious despite her suspicion, Pan followed her gaze. An invader was looking around the ruins of the city, as though searching for something. In his hand he clutched a large metallic gun, and it was this that the girl was pointing at.

"A gun?" scoffed Pan, with a look of superiority.

"A blaster, actually." The girl looked at her in an almost amused sort of way. "Defined to hit even the swiftest of fighters. You couldn't have dodged that even if you had seen him coming behind you. He was sneaking up on you, by the way," she added. "Seems you made him angry when you powered up on his shoulder like that. These guys don't seem to like being made a fool of."

"I would have…hey, how do you know all this?" Pan's suspicion was back.

"I've been watching from here. They're only after zeni, so they haven't searched the forests. Not interested." The girl stood up and yawned. She smiled down at Pan. "Well, anyway, my job here's done. I'm going." She turned and made to go in amongst the trees.

"Wait!" Pan called after her. The girl turned and faced her again. "What else do you know about these people? When will they leave us alone?"

The girl threw back a strand of hair from her pale face and looked up at the branches, pondering. "From what I've seen – not a lot, I don't dream that often," Pan ignored this strange exclamation. "-they're going to leave the planet in about another ten minutes. This has been happening all over the world, but they've finished their looting. They'll be off soon." The girl's face masked over with seriousness, as though she had just remembered something. "But they've taken many humans from the planet with them. They're all locked up in the ships." The girl looked down at Pan with a look of... what was it... pity? "And knowing your family and friends, they won't let the Dark Army leave with so many prisoners. Perhaps they'll be captured, too," she added as an after thought.

Pan frowned. "No one can capture my Grandpa," she said darkly. "He's the most powerful warrior in the universe."

The girl looked grim. "Be that as it may, everyone has their own weaknesses." She sighed. Pan, thoroughly confused, thought of another question.

"Who are you, anyway? Why did you help me?"

"I helped you because you were going to be killed," the girl replied. "I can't abide death. Too grisly. As for the other question..." The girl's head fell sideways, considering the tiny black-haired girl standing so defiantly before her. The impression made her smile. "You remind me of someone I ran into earlier on today. Him and his purple-headed friend...he was curious, too. He looks like you. Are you related?"

Pan, thinking of Goten, replied: "Yeah. He's my uncle, I guess."

The girl's eyebrow lifted. "My, this family spreads all over the globe, doesn't it?" The girl glanced behind her suddenly. Her movements were quick as lightening, startlingly fast to watch. "They're leaving. I'm going to do the same."

Pan's mind had drifted, but now she looked up, eyes wide. "You didn't answer my question-" she began, but the girl was running away from her into the trees, her black coat billowing out behind her. It reminded Pan of Piccolo's cape. Just before she completely disappeared, the girl stopped, turned, looked up. She faced Pan for the last time.

"They're going. But be careful. Remember," she said finally, her black hair flying in strands on one side of her face, flying in the wind. Her eyes sparked and danced on her cool, pale face. "Everyone has a weakness. Keep your wits about you. If you don't then I shouldn't have bothered saving you." The girl winked. "Take care."

Then, she was gone.

Pan stood dumbstruck for moments after the girl's disappearance, silent and still. She was still trying to sort out an extremely messy jumble of thoughts when a great gush of air blew from behind and almost knocked her off her feet. The space crafts, the metallic blue coatings glowing in the gentle moonlight, were hovering above the ground, pushing at the earth below and sending huge clouds of dust into the air. Pan covered her mouth and eyes with folded arms as the dust blew in her direction. She squinted through the sheets of earth, and saw the space crafts fly higher and higher into the sky, before rotating to face the east, and jettisoning off into the darkness. They were gone, just like the girl.

Pan, eyes wide, left the darkness of the bush and returned to the smouldering streets. There was no point in hiding when there was no danger to hide from. The tiny girl looked up and around her. The city was a mess, with rubble covering the pavement and a dense layer of plaster and dirt dust coating the roads, like finely-sieved icing sugar. Small fires were still burning. Hidden amongst the devastation where the bodies of people who'd tried to escape from the invaders. Pan shuddered, and flew up into the air. She didn't want to stay here any more. She wanted to go and find her family and her friends, so that the evening could start to feel more normal - normal! - again.

The only question was where her family and friends would be. Pan remembered what the stranger-girl had told her:

_"…knowing your family and friends, they won't let the Dark Army leave with so many prisoners-"_

She knew her family wouldn't like to leave her here, but chances were that at least some of them would go after the invaders. So what if the girl had been right? That meant that Dad, Mom, Grandpa, Goten …they'd all left her.

Another thought struck her. _"Perhaps they'll be captured, too,"_ the girl had said. What if she was right? What if she never _would_ see her Dad again..?

Pan shook her head. Stupid, ridiculous… you're an idiot Pan, you really are! She flew higher and over the wrecked buildings, searching with darting eyes for any sign of life. There was no movement from in the city, although she did catch sight of people hanging around the suburbs, waiting to see if their homes were now safe to enter. Cars and vans and lorries were driving into town, many of them news reporters and cameramen and TV crews, wanting the story of the destruction of West City. Pan groaned, and took on speed. Still there was no sign of a fight scene, of people flying through the air to meet her. A nasty grip was taking a hold on Pan's stomach, squeezing tighter at every street that she flew over. _Where are they all..?_

Eventually, Capsule Corporation came into view, and Pan knew that she had passed the area where her father and Grandpa had last stood. Breathing quickly, Pan spurred on even more speed and reached Capsule Corp. two minutes later. She touched down on her tiptoes and ran for the front door.

"Mom! Dad! Bulma, Grandpa, _where are you all?_" she yelled, throwing open the door and making her way to the living room. The television's blue light highlighted the sofa's material and the white walls, just as it had done when she'd left. The couch, however, was empty.

Pan checked the kitchen, the bedroom's, the study, and even sprinted for the outside workshop. The place was completely deserted. Moaning Pan slowed down, worn out and exhausted. She decided on a last-ditch attempt of finding everybody. She tried to soothe her aching lungs by breathing slowly. In and out, slowly, just as Gohan had taught her to. Then Pan closed her eyes and focused her mind on the image of Gohan and Videl, both wearing their hero costumes, just as they had been the last time she'd seen them. She imagined their power levels, and the golden aura of a Super Saiyan surrounding her father's shape. She searched for their energy levels. If they were still on the planet and she could find the ki levels, she'd be able to locate where they were. Pan shut her eyes so hard that it hurt, and concentrated.

She didn't know how long she stood like that, eyes jammed shut, fists clenched together, biting her bottom lip so hard that she tasted the bitter taste of blood, standing motionlessly in the middle of the living room of the dark and deserted Capsule Corporation. Desperation took a grip of her gut. Her eyes began to water up. Pan frantically searched the entire area for the ki levels of her father, mother, Grandpa, uncle, and friends.

There wasn't a single sign of them left on the Earth.

That was it, the last chance she had had. She hadn't been able to sense any ki levels. Her parents were no longer on the planet. No one was.

Suddenly, Pan felt very alone. She sat down pale faced on the couch, and watched as the television screen flickered images of news reporters and citizens re-entering the city. Drained of any energy, ideas or feelings, Pan lowered her head and cupped her face in her hands, trying the think of what she could possibly do next.


	4. Preview : Ch 3 : The Dark Army Withdraws

Author: "Preview of Chapter 3:"  
  
  
  
Chapter 3 - The Dark Army Withdraws:  
  
  
  
Whilst Pan had been out and about in the city, running from invaders and being dragged into bushes by people who were complete strangers to her, Goku and the rest of the Z-Fighters had found their way among the masses of darkly-dressed invaders. There were screams of horror from both the Dark Army and citizens trying to escape, as human fighters flew through the air like silver arrows and saiyans powered up to unbelievable levels of power.  
  
Krillen and Yamcha were taking on five each at a time, and the invader's were falling every two minutes to the floor. The sea of black kept coming. Tien was doing the same on the tops of buildings. Goten and Trunks were thoroughly enjoying themselves, encircling Gohan and Videl protectively and confusing the invader's with taunts and jeers. The two Saiyamenn were exhausted, leaning against each other and rasping deeply, sweat trickling from the strands of hair. Videl yelled as the ray from a blaster skimmed her shoulder, and Trunks, momentarily deterred, was punched in the shoulder by one of the attackers. He flew into a building, almost whamming into Piccolo and another. Furious, he came back at the invader and punched him in the jaw viciously. This was turning out to be less and less of a game.  
  
As could be as expected Vegeta was one on his own, killing downright in his usual cold way. He blasted through the invaders with energy waves whisking through the air like fireworks, but still the sea of black descended. "What is with you freaks!" he spat, socking one in the chin and hammering into another's stomach as though it were a punching bag. "I kill more of you every time and you still keep coming-"  
  
Silhouetted as a blurred figure against the moonlight, Goku had decided to take on a character who appeared to be one of the leaders of the army: a tall, gangly figure with surprising agility and a face cloaked in the shadow of a black hood. There was no running from the invader's side. He fought recklessly against the Super Saiyan, missing Goku's energy blasts by millimetres and yet returning the fire with his own. He was unafraid. It was a challenge, but Goku was gaining the upper hand. A flurry of punches to the face and the invader was falling to his death, destined to snap his stick-like neck on the pavement below.  
  
Breathing heavily, Goku scanned the scene, noticed Tien fighting on his own, and was about to go and help when. another black figure appeared at his side, blasting him in the shoulder. Grunting, Goku fought back. He was confused. They were reckless. They fought and died and fought, and were injured repetitively, yet more came to replace their fallen comrades. They didn't care that they would die. It was unnerving.  
  
Still the sea of black descended.  
  
It was a fight that was to be remembered by the people of West City for a long, long while. 


End file.
